Listening in the Darkness
by Redhood79
Summary: Originally called "Child of Shadow". AU- Christine has a sister who knows the truth about the "Angel of Music" and wants only to protect her sister from pain...suck at summaries
1. One

Disclaimer: Don't own any of the original characters, Andrew Lloyd Webber, Joel Schumacher, and Gaston Leroux. I do however own Ella and a few other characters I throw in for flavor.

Summary: What if Christine were not alone when her father died? What if she had a sister, one who could not believe in childhood fairy stories or believe in the goodness and power of love? One who knew the Phantom and knew how dangerous he was to her sister.

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: Well, since the DVD came out I finally decided to write that fic that's been haunting my mind since I saw the movie the first time. To any of those who are reading my other fics, I am working on Love's Foolish Light, so don't worry! The Point however…well I don't know, seems my muse hates me for doing that right now. Whatever….enjoy the fic and please review.

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_Paris 1917_

_I promised I would not write this…Not the truth of it anyway. The promise was made to myself only, so in breaking it I will only be betraying myself, which I can do. I have been hurt and betrayed by so many, those who I love the most, that it is no great consequence now._

_Christine is dead…I thought perhaps writing it would help me cope with it more…Writing has always done that for me, since father's death, maybe even before that. Christine had the opera and music, then her Angel. I had my broken smile and matching heart—_

_No! I will not write of that now. It is no consequence. I have forgiven…forgiven all, all but myself. He does not understand why I must write the truth, he sees that it only makes my grief greater and makes me wild with writing. He has forgotten, after all these years, that grief and sadness and silence were my dearest companions. I can only be the old Ella…the old new, happy Ella once I have written this completely. _

_You may have heard this tale before, many times, in many ways. You may hate me for writing this, but I swear it is the truth. The truth as I have known it. You may recall all those characters you have come to love so dearly…and may end up hating them for how they are painted. You may come to loves those you had once loved to loathe. I apologize now, for any pain that I bring to any. But I must write this._

_You may think that I hate Christine Daae when you begin this, many already do. But how can I say…how can I show that she was once the only one who heard me in my darkness and solitude. That it was because of her naiveté and selfishness that led me to my heart's desire. _

_You see, Christine Daae was my sister. The oldest, by but 20 months. The favorite and golden one. The one with the voice of an angel and the soul of one too. _

_And I…the tolerated one. No gift for music or song. The child in the shadows. _

_Forgive me father…Christine…Raoul...Erik…and whoever else reads this sad story of the trials of the Daae sisters. _

_Sincerely,_

_Estella Daae_

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Paris 1870

Ella Daae quickly made her way through the streets of Paris, head down, satchel hugged close to her body. Madame Cabot had offered to send for the carriage as always, and Ella had refused as always.

"It is but a short distance to the Opera house, Madame." When in truth it was over five blocks to the Opera Populaire. Ella did not mind the walk. No one bothered her; perhaps some were even frightened of her. Ella was quite tall for a girl of her age, even more than her older sister Christine, who was in the Opera's ballet. Ella stood a good 5 ft 7 and a half at least. Her legs were long and slender, as where her arms. Ella thought her arms looked freakish, too long, too bony. She always wore long sleeves or a cloak to cover them. Madame Giry said she would have been a perfect ballerina.

"Oh yes! The tall ogre would hava been great!" La Carlotta would scoff when she heard Madame Giry showing attention to Ella. "If not for the fact she hasa no musical obility!"

La Carlotta could not stand the site of Ella. She did not understand why Ella was aloud to live in the ballet dormitories if she was not a ballerina nor did she work for the Opera at all.

When their father had died, he had arranged for Madame Giry to take Christine to the Opera to live and work in the ballet. But what of little Estella?

"I shall not be parted from her!" Little Christine cried. "Oh papa! I have lost Mama and now am to lose you! Please do not let Ella be taken from me as well!"

Little Ella could hardly work in the ballet. She was clumsy and too tall, even then. True she was beautiful like her sister and their mother before her. She had dark hair and eyes like Christine, but where Christine's hair fell in soft curls, Ella's drooped in straight, thick strands. Where Christine's eyes seemed to always be filled with laughter and hope, Ella's were still and serious, sad for a child of her age. Ella could sing, but not well enough even for the chorus. And her shyness…it bordered on defiance. Whenever a knock came at the door she would run up to the attic and hide. Monsieur Daae had planned to have his younger daughter sent to an orphanage in Ireland, where she would be taught and looked after and perhaps someday become a governess.

But Little Lotte had screamed and wailed. They must not be parted! So an arrangement was made. Ella would come to stay in the dormitories with Christine. Madame Giry took soul responsibility of the child, like a second daughter, just like the other Daae was. She even found her the job reading to the partially blind, gentle Madame Pauline Cabot four days a week.

This is where Ella had been that very afternoon. The afternoon, at least to Ella, that started it all. As she made her way backstage, the cast was finishing a number from that night's production. Madame Giry nodded to Ella and smiled and Christine waved for her sister to come stand by her and Meg Giry. Ella shook her head, holding a finger to her lips; Monsieur Lefevre was making some commotion, asking for silence. Two other gentlemen were with him. Ella thought they looked like old fools, no place in an Opera house. And she was right…they were the new managers.

_Oh, will not the Opera Ghost love this,_ she smiled to herself. And then her breath caught in her throat. "Raoul!" Christine gasped, just as Ella thought the name herself.

The new patron was Vicomte Raoul de Chagney. Ella could barely hear her sister explaining her history of herself and Raoul over the beating of her own heart. "I guess you could say we were childhood sweethearts." Ah, yes. It was always Raoul and little Lotte, with Ellie trailing behind.

"_Come on, Christine, the sun will be down completely by the time we reach the cliff!"_

"_We must wait a bit…Estella cannot manage as quickly nor as gracefully as us."_

"_Come, come, little Ellie!" The young boy turned and smiled at the gangly girl, as she once again slipped in between the rocks. "Do you wish for me to carry you?" Ella's eyes lit up. He had not even made that offer to Christine first! But it was quickly forgotten. _

"_Raoul! My scarf! It's blown away," her sister both laughed and shrieked at the same time. _

As Raoul passed to exit the Opera, Meg and Christine looked after him with disappointment. "He didn't see you," Meg tried to comfort her friend.

Ella almost burst out laughing at this. Not notice Christine! It must be some strange miracle! For surely she was the only Daae that anyone noticed…_ever_.

"_Vicomte de Chagney, this is my daughter Christine…"_

"_She is very lovely, Monsieur, is she not Raoul?" Philippe de Chagney smiled. _

"_Papa, you forgot to introduce Ella!"_

He had not really forgotten though, it didn't want to be reminded of her, his youngest child. The one he blamed for taking his sweet wife from him too soon.

"It was not your fault, Estella," Christine told her time and again. "Mama was very weak after my birth." Ella did not care. She knew her father favored Christine and she did not care. She had become accustom to being alone. To always being in the background.

Ella snapped out of her reverie. Carlotta was throwing another tantrum. Something about dancing girls and costumes. The new managers were trying to butter her up by getting her to sing. It worked…Ella moved farther back stage and winced as Carlotta raised her voice.

_Somebody, please kill her!_

And as if somebody had heard her dark prayer, one of the backdrops fell, crushing the diva under it's weight. "The Phantom!" Meg gasped. Ella's eyes immediately went upward…but she could see nothing. Then Joseph Buquet stepped up and apologized for being absent. Ella turned away from the crude man's voice, and noticed something fluttering to the floor. A letter! She glanced around and quickly snatched it up. The envelope paper was plain enough, but when she turned it over a blood red skull look up at her. Ella's breathe caught again for the second time in less than an hour.

"Mademoiselle…" Ella turned to see Madame Giry standing behind her. "May I have that letter, Ella?" Ella only nodded and handed it to the older woman. Ella only half listened as Madame Giry read the greetings from the Opera Ghost to the new managers.

Since these…happenings had begun three years ago Ella had become fascinated with the idea of the Opera Ghost. She would sit up in the catwalk during the rehearsals whenever she got the chance, hopping to spot him. She never did that way. More often than not she would hurry off the catwalk because Buquet would come and accost her. She could take care of herself well enough, but even being within ten feet of that man made her sick.

But she had seen the ghost…or at least heard who everybody must have thought was the ghost. One night, a little over a year ago, she had left her satchel bag and writing folder on the stage by mistake. It was not until the next night that she realized where she must have left it…the stage. It was almost midnight, but she had already been a whole day with out her papers. What if someone found them? She would never get them back than, and worse yet, someone else might read them.

Ella quickly threw a robe over her nightgown and made her way back to the stage. It was completely dark and silent, but she was not afraid. She loved the darkness, she knew that now. It was the only time she did not have to feel guilty for being alone and for hating others. She saw her satchel and ran to it. The papers were not inside it, but had been resting on top of it, bundled neatly with a small black silk string around it. Suddenly it was not silent. A voice was singing….

_**No one would listen…No one but her heard as the outcast hears**_

She followed the voice to the small chapel. The voice came from behind the walls.

_**Shamed into solitude  
Shunned by the multitude  
I learned to listen  
In my dark, my heart heard music**_

Ella strained to hear more, but with her clumsiness and there being no light, she knocked into a tall candle bra. The voice stopped. The tears that had formed in Ella's eyes spilled over for the loss of that voice. _Please…_she wanted to say, _Please…keep singing!_ But he did not.

Ella knew now that that was the ghost. And that was not the only time she had heard they strange and beautiful voice. For it was that same voice that sang and instructed her sister nightly. There was no doubt in Ella's mind. The Phantom of the Opera was Christine Daae's Angel of Music.

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Right…first chapter over…second one on the way soon. Please R/R!


	2. Two

-1Disclaimer: Again, I don't own anything, except Ella and such, but everyone and thing else belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Joel Schumacher, and Gaston Leroux.

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It was just a few minutes before the curtain opened. Christine would be making her debut! Her face was white and she was shaking like a leaf with nervousness as Madame Giry helped her finish her toilette. Ella watched her older sister's face in the large mirror. Ella had showed all the excitement a young sister should at hearing the news that Christine would be taking Carlotta's place. Still, a black ball of anxiety lay in Ella's stomach, though she could not say why. Christine would be perfect; her voice had improved so well, it seemed like a miracle.

As Ella stood next to Madame Giry backstage, listening to Christine perform "Think of Me" it suddenly became clear why she had such a sense of foreboding about Christine's performance. _He _would be listening.

Ella had never told anyone about the voice she had heard singing that night behind the chapel walls; not even Christine. After some days she had even begun to convince herself that there had been no voice; that she had felt lonely and tired that night and had imagined the whole thing. That was until she heard the voice again. She had come back from spending the day with Madame Cabot to find that the entire Opera had been given the day off; some sort of accident had occurred and La Carlotta was too upset to continue. Many of the _corps de_ _ballet_ had gone out, happy to make mischief elsewhere. Ella was surprised to learn from little Jammes that Christine had declined to go with any of the other girls. She was in fact spending the day alone in the dormitories; strange that the elder of the Daae girls should become so unsociable all of a sudden.

Ella felt in high spirits that day, Madame Cabot had had her read "Love's Labor's Lost", so she snuck up quietly to the dormitories, hoping to surprise and tease her sister. She was about to push open the door to the room she shared with her sister when she stopped dead. There were voices…One was definitely Christine's. Hadn't Jammes said that Christine was alone? And the other voice was a man's! The closed door muffled the sound too much for her to hear whose it was.

Ella held her breath as she slowly, stealthy turned the knob and opened the door a fraction. What she heard shocked her so much that she dropped the books she had been carrying. The voices inside were immediately silenced and a few seconds later Christine had pulled open the door the rest of the way. "Ella…? Oh, you frightened me so! You should have knocked!"

"Since when do I need to knock to come into my room, _ma soeur_." Ella retrieved her books and pushed passed Christine into the room, searching. There was no one else there and there were not many places for a person to hide, except under the beds. She turned back to her sister and demanded an explanation.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Ella. There is no one else here."

"But there _was_ someone here, Christine! I heard him! Once more that is not the first time I have heard him!" At this statement Christine blanched a whiter shade of pale, but she continued to deny the voice's existence. A rift formed between the sisters over the next several days. Finally Christine came to find Ella, taking her down to the small chapel.

"I can not stand it," Christine sighed. "I promised I would tell no one, but I cannot bear keeping secrets from you…you are my sister, my flesh and blood. Certainly _he _will understand that."

"He?" Ella asked, trying to be patient with Christine, not wanting to scare her off once again. Christine sat silent for a few moments, looking at the angel painted on the chapel wall.

"Do you remember when father died?...And he promised me he would send me an angel of music?"

Of course, how could she forget. He had made the promise just mere minutes before he took his last breath. All their father had said to Ella was "I have been very cold to you, child," as he briefly stroked her hair. Ella had thought she would cry then, and even now at the memory of it, but she did not. She thought perhaps she never would and that did not bother her as much as it should have. That was the real difference between her and Christine. Christine cared so much about others, felt so passionately for them that she could not help but show the emotions on her face. Ella however felt hardly for anyone else in the world except for herself and her sister..._and Raoul,_ a little voice in her head said. _Yes, and Raoul_. But aside from that she was cold and dark inside.

Ella nodded for her sister to continue. "Well he has come!" was all she said.

"Who…?" Christine was not making any sense. Ella looked at the painting of the angel than back at her sister. "You cannot mean….

"The Angel of Music," they both said together. Ella shook her head. "No…no…Christine…" She stood up and placed her hands on her still kneeling sister's shoulders.

"No what? You heard him yourself….you said so. You said you heard him sing! That voice…that beautiful voice—." Christine gazed off dreamily for a moment. "Who else could it be but the Angel of Music? Who else could conceal themselves so well?"

Could her sister truly be so blind? So naïve? Ella let go of her sister. "You have no idea do you? Who he is? Who this _man_ is?" Ella explained to Christine her theory about the voice being the Opera Ghost.

"How could you think that? How could you believe in such gossip and horrors as ghosts?"

"It is not so fantastic as you believing in angels!" Ella knew she was close to blasphemy, but she didn't care. "And I did not say I believe in ghosts! I believe that this _phantom_…this angel…is a man. Real flesh and blood." She could see the hurt she was causing Christine. "I cannot believe as you do, Christine. I cannot fathom that this voice that teaches you is a holy seraph sent by Papa." Christine's face went dark.

"So that is the reason? Because Papa showed me more love than you! Because he promised me the angel and gave you nothing? I thought you were stronger than that, Ella. I thought you were above such jealousies." And with that she fled from the chapel.

Their rift continued for several more days until Ella decided to be the bigger person. "I am sorry, Christine. You know I love you more than anyone in the world. We are the same flesh, the same heart really. Do not be upset that …that I cannot believe in things as you do. I never did believe all those fairy stories Papa used to tell us."

Christine smiled and kissed Ella on the cheek. "Yes, I remember. You do not have faith in much, little Ellie. But you do believe me about the Angel? You heard him…?"

"I did…." That voice had haunted her through all her nights. She did not have a great ear for music, but oh, that man's voice. She felt silly, but she could not help but sing herself.

_**Christine…**_

_**You were the one with the golden voice The one who the Angels ever loved' I could hear nothing but dark and shadow But then his voice seemed to come from above'**_

_**And it filled my spirit  
with a strange, sweet sound  
In that night there was music in my mind  
And through music my soul began to soar!  
And I heard as I'd never heard before**_

Christine smiled at her. "I love when you sing; you never do it often enough."

"It is not my voice the Angel wants…nor do I think Satan would take my soul if it meant listening to my voice for all eternity!" They laughed.

The final curtain fell and the crowd was still cheering, still calling Christine's name. It was so crowded and loud, Ella had to get away. She finally managed to maneuver herself through the crowds and into Christine's dressing room, which had been Carlotta's until this evening. Ella stood amazed at all the flowers. How they had managed to get some of the arrangements through the door she would never know. She sat down on a small pink couch to the right of the door, and decided to read while she waited for her sister to come back. It was then that she noticed the rose sitting on the small table. She picked it up. How funny. Just the single perfect red rose, and no card. Just a thread of silk ribbon tied around it.

She could hear Madame Giry's voice and saw the door start to open. She quickly replaced the rose and fell back onto the sofa. She rolled over so that her face was to the back of the sofa, closing her eyes tight, pretending to sleep. She could hear Madame right above her.

"He is pleased with you, my dear."

There was no doubt who he was. So Madame Giry knew the phantom! Of course, how stupid could Ella be? Hadn't it been Madame who suggested Christine step in for Carlotta.

"_She is taking lessons from a great teacher, messieurs_."

And the notes! Madame Giry always delivered the notes from O.G. Ella would have to question the woman about the Phantom later; tonight was for Christine. She must tell her sister how wonderful she was and how she always knew Christine would be a great diva of the opera. She was in fact about to turn around and do so when she heard the door open again and she heard Rauol de Chagney speak. When she heard his voice a small tremor went through her body.

_Oh, Rauol_…_don't you see me, here? Lying softly?_ Still keeping her eyes closed she wrapped her long arms around herself and listened to this suitor and her sister converse.

God, how can they prattle so? Like children! No worse…like they had never spent these years apart, unaware of the minute pain that it was causing Ella. Finally Raoul spoke of her.

"And where is little Ellie?" She hated when anyone but Christine or Papa had called her that, though Papa rarely called her at all.

"Hush," Christine's voice whispered. "She is there…sleeping. Do not wake her. I am so worried about her sometimes…let her have the peace of her dreams."

"Yes, we should let her be," Raoul said, not giving the younger Daae a second glance. "But you and I shall go to supper."

"Raoul, no! The Angel of Music—."

"Would not want you to starve. I'll send for my horses….Quickly, get changed!" He instructed as he went out the door.

"Raoul! The Angel is very strict!" She made one last attempt, but it was useless. He was gone. Christine got up to go after him, but stopped short when the candles went out. She looked over at Ella, lying on the couch, willing her to wake. Ella had felt the draft blow through the room and her dark eyes snapped open when she heard the voice, the voice that had haunted her nights and had fueled the inspiration of her days.

_**Insolent boy, this slave of fashion, basking in your glory  
Ignorant fool this brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph**_

Christine answered.

_**Angel, I hear, you, Speak, I listen, Stay by my side, guide me  
Angel, my soul was weak, forgive me  
Enter at last, master.**_

Ella wanted to scream at her sister. The little idiot! _Don't answer him!_

_**Flattering child, you shall know me  
See why in shadow I hide  
Look at your face in the mirror  
I am there inside**_

Ella sat up and watched as her sister walked toward the mirror. Suddenly a shape appeared in the mirror. It was a man! It was the phantom! Ella could barely make him out in the dark, except that he was rather tall and strongly built. And then her eyes rested on his face. She could not see the left half, it was covered in shadow, but the right…! It was a mask, bone white and sinister. Why would this man with the voice of an angel need to wear such a thing? It was not the idea of what lay behind the mask, but the mask itself that frightened Ella from moving. She could only watch helplessly as Christine stretched out her hand to her "Angel of Music" and disappeared behind the mirror. She was now completely alone in the room, surrounded by mist. She looked at the door; Rauol had been banging on it but now all was silent.

What should she do? Should she call Raoul back? Who knew what would happen to Christine by then. No, she would have to follow them!

Quickly, she unlocked the door to the dressing room and opened it, in case Raoul came back. Then she ran to the mirror and slid it back. Ella looked once more behind her before stepping into the unknown.

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Whoa! This chapter took a lot out of me! For all you Erik fans out there he'll be making a big appearance in the next chapter! Please read and review!


	3. Three

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Ella was surprised; the passage behind the mirror was not as dark as she had expected it to be. Candle holders lined the walls for as far as she could see, still she was frightened. She could not see any sign of Christine or the Phantom.

_Stay calm, Ella _she told herself. _They can't have gone far…there's only one way to go!_

Quickly she made her way down the passage, not looking back once. She came to a flight of stone steps and thought she could hear voices in the distance. She could only see a few stairs-worth down; beyond that it was dark. She strained to hear. It was Christine's voice…Christine's and the Phantom's. _Don't be a coward!_ She scolded herself. Christine was down there with that man, doing who knows what! Still, she had to get one deep breath to calm herself before she descended into the darkness. Once she down the stairs she continued on further into the darkness, listening. With each step she could hear the voices clearer.

Finally the darkness seemed to fade a bit; she could see light off in the distance. She let out a small gasp. She stood on the banks of an underground lake, mist swirling off the water like ghostly ballerinas. And at the far end, overflowing with candle light and music, was the Phantom's underground lair, separated from the bank and Ella by an iron portcullis that descended from the stone archway entrance. Ella could see no bridge that connected from the arch to the bank, so how had they crossed the lake? A boat perhaps? Well it wasn't there now, so she had no way to get across except….Ella stared at the blue-green water. No…

The voices from behind the iron gate had faded a bit. She could not see them clearly enough. She looked at the water again. _Oh, drat!_ She waded, as silent as she could, into the lake. The lake was only up to her knees, but as she began to wade further in, it rose to her waist. The water was warmer than she thought it would be. If she wasn't scared out of her wits beyond consolation it might have relaxed her. She had always been a good swimmer, spending all those summers by the sea. She wasn't afraid of drowning….at least she thought so.

_It's fine, Ella. You're doing fine._

Then the bottom of the lake fell out. Ella tried to scream, but water flooded into her mouth. She flayed her arms and legs frantically, praying for air. Finally she broke the surface, and bobbed on the water for a few moments. She looked around and noticed she was only a few breaststrokes from the iron gate. She could hear the voices more clearly…no voice. It was just one; a male.

_**Slowly, gently  
Night unfurls its splendor.  
Grasp it, sense it,  
Tremulous and tender.**_

Ella swam the few meters and locked her hands through the portcullis, pulling herself up. She shivered, not from coldness, but from the voice. She could now see the singer clearly; the left side of his face, the unmasked part. The beauty of the face struck her like an iron brand; she almost slid fully back into the water. His hair was as dark as a starless night and it rested gently above the collar of his shirt. She could not tell the exact color of his eyes. One moment they appeared a crystal-bright blue, the next green. She only knew that they were the most intense and solemn eyes she had ever seen.

_**Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dream!  
Leave the thoughts of life you knew before!  
close your eyes and let your spirit start to soar  
and you'll live, as you've never lived before.**_

Though the song was for Christine alone, Ella found herself closing her own eyes, losing her self in the passion of the song. When she opened them again there were tears in her eyes.

_**Floating, falling  
Sweet intoxication,  
Touch me, trust me  
Savor each sensation**_

As she watched the Phantom go to Christine, watched him guide her hand to his face, watch him caress her, Ella for the first time in her life was truly jealous of her older sister. Even with everything else, their father shunning Ella and embracing Christine, after Raoul doing the same with his whole heart, not realizing what pain it gave Ella, after all that, Ella still loved Christine as much as ever. She never begrudged her the love her sister rightly deserved; Christine was sunlight and spring, Ella was dusk and shadows. But now….That voice! Those hands!

The Phantom was a man! A real flesh and blood man, just as she had always suspected. And he loved Christine, just like everyone else; there could be no doubt of that. Ella did not know why this made her so jealous of her sister. She did not know the man! She was in love with Raoul, for goodness sakes! Yet the Phantom's voice did something to her, as did the fact that his voice was supposed to be heard only by Christine. Ella felt sick. _I must get out of here!_ She pushed away from the gate and swam back toward the banks of the lake. Christine could take care of herself.

Ella made her way, dripping and in a daze, back up the stone stairs and into the passage leading to Carlotta's dressing room. In her haze she did not notice the figure coming up before her, backward, until it smacked into her.

"_Ufh!_" it cried, and Ella fell back against the stone wall. "Oh! Ella!" It was Meg. Little Giry placed her hands on Ella's wet forearms. "Where is Christine? And what happened to you?" Ella tried to speak, but found she was without words. Her! Without words? Some writer she was. Meg felt that her friend was shivering and thought it was from the coldness of being wet, not knowing the things Ella had heard and seen. Neither heard a third figure approach.

Madame Giry placed her hand on her daughter's shoulder, who jumped.

"Mes petites!" she dragged them back towards the open mirror. "What are you doing? Don't you know the danger…What happened to you, Estella?"

"Christine is gone!" Meg said in a way of excuse as she watched her Mama close the mirror.

"I know, as do the managers. The new patron, Vicomte de Chagney alerted them. It shall be in all the papers by morning I dare say." Madame Giry took a cloak off a nearby chair and draped it around Ella's shoulders. "Go on out, ma petite," she instructed her daughter. Meg looked like she wanted to protest, but her mother gave her a stern look and she obliged. Madame Giry turned back to Ella. "What happened to you my dear?...What did you see? What did you hear?"

Ella looked at Madame Giry with eyes that were blank and cold. "Nothing," she replied. "I woke up alone and saw the mirror open like that. I went through it a ways, but I could not see and slipped in a puddle of water. I was frightened so I came back, and you and Meg found me." Madame Giry just stared into her eyes for a silent moment. She knew Ella was lying, but obviously the girl would not speak the truth…to anyone. That was good enough.

"Come my dear, you must change before you catch your death. I shall put you in a private room tonight, so you may rest easier and not have to deal with the other girl's questions."

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"Ella!..._Ella!_" a voice woke her from her dreamless sleep. It was Meg Giry again. "Christine is back!" Ella shot up and saw it was true; Madame Giry was leading a pale and sobbing Christine into the room. Madame put her in the bed.

"She needs rest. You both do I think. I shall see that no one bothers you."

And with that Madame Giry and Meg left the two sisters alone in the room. Christine was lying on the bed, her eyes staring blankly off into space, her face as pale as the white bed sheet. "Christine…?" Christine's pale arms shot out and she began to sob again as she hugged Ella tightly to her.

"Oh, Ella…oh my sister…my baby sister!" Though it seemed Christine was the baby, crying into Ella's lap. "…Oh...it was frightening! What I've seen…where I've been…I pray you shall never have to see such things!"

_I already have!_ Ella said silently to herself. Yet she did not think the sights so horrible…she even found them beautiful. Didn't Christine too? Had she not felt the same way when the Phantom was singing to her? What had happened to her sister when she left her in that dark palace?

Ella raised Christine's face and looked in her eyes, exactly like hers. "What happened?" Christine just shook her head. "You were right," was all she replied.

Christine finally fell into a fitful sleep a few minutes later. Ella knew that she should stay with her; that it was her duty to watch over her sister in this hour of need. But she had to know what happened. She quietly made her way back toward the dressing room and the mirror. Luckily it was still early and hardly anyone was around. Obviously Madame Giry was going to wait for the managers to come in themselves before she told them of Christine's return.

Ella stood on the banks of the underground lake once again. This time though the gate was raised and it was deathly silent. Again she swam across but without the shock and fear of the night before. As she step onto dry land again, she tried to remind herself to be on her guard…just because it was quiet did not mean _he _was not here. But logic failed her. The thousands of candles looked like stars. She was awed by the beauty of this dark and mysterious place, and even more so by its master.

Slowly she made her way further in. There was a small diorama of the opera's stage. She smiled at the details of it. It was for the production of the Opera's next performance _Il Muto_. She noticed however that the Countessa's head piece looked an awful lot like Christine, while the one on the pageboy looked like Carlotta. She moved on, into what appeared to be a bedroom. The sheets on the bed were red as blood and rumpled. She was about to reach her hand out to touch the soft silk when something caught her eye.

_What in the world?_

It was a music box shaped like a barrel organ. There was a monkey on top, with two small cymbals in its hands. Ella wound it up and a smile brushed across her lips as she listened to it play. Who was this man that had created such a thing? That's voice could make her loathe her own sister?

Strong hands grabbed Ella's neck from behind. She tried to scream, but the hands grasped too tight! No…not grasping, choking! Someone was choking her!

The Phantom's profile appeared over her right shoulder, stopping mere inches from her own cheek. He pulled her backward against his chest, releasing one hand from her neck to place on her shoulder; his other hand stayed where it was, but relaxed its hold a bit. "Do not make an attempt to move, mademoiselle, or I shall be forced to break your neck," a cool and husky voice whispered in her ear. Having her oxygen cut off and then returned to her, Ella's chest rose and fell heavily. Her captor held her a moment more before thrusting her violently foreword.

Ella's hands caught the edge of the bed and she balanced herself. Slowly, shyly, she looked up at the man know as the Phantom of the Opera. He was facing her at a profile; she could just barely see the edges of the white mask nudging up over the bridge of his nose. The eye she could see burned with emotion. She looked away and again Ella found herself without words. The Phantom laughed.

"Come, Mademoiselle Estella," he said turning away. "I am sure your father would be rolling in his grave if he knew you were standing alone with a strange man in a bedroom." He led her back out into the main chamber. He sat himself down at his organ and motioned for her to sit in a nearby chair. Ella dropped down into the soft cushioned chair. He handed her a near by cloak to dry herself.

"What did you do to my sister!" she blurted out, her voice trembling. She did not want to sound so frightened. She did not want him to think her weak or stupid, yet he must think that. Ella again could not raise her dark eyes to his light ones. The Phantom laughed at her again.

"What business is it of yours?"

Vicious and spiteful man!

"She is my sister, monsieur! My only living kin! If she has been harmed or compromised it is my business!" The Phantom looked at the girl's face as she spoke. She had been so pale when he came upon her, paler still when he grabbed her so roughly, but now color seeped into her face, a fire ignited in her eyes. Eyes that remind him of Christine's, yet this Daae's were more solemn and oblique. "And what more, I demand to know who you are and what right you have to come and kidnap my sister and…and grab me so…and…and disturb things in the Opera so much!" Ella was again panting, having said this in one long breath. The Opera Ghost just looked her up and down, quickly, then a second time, more slowly, almost seductively. Ella wrapped the cloak around herself more tightly. She had been shivering from her swim across the lake, but now the Phantom's gaze seemed to warm her. Her mouth went dry and she ran her fingers through her wet hair. She wished he would stop scrutinizing her.

Finally his gaze came to rest on her face once more and he smiled. "You are not like your sister, little Daae." She narrowed her eyes at him.

"So good of you to notice, monsieur!" She made a mocking curtsy from her seat. "But I did not ask you what you thought of me, and frankly I do not care to know. In fact, I do not wish to know any of the thoughts in your _vile _head, monsieur. But I will ask you again…What transpired between you and my sister?" The Phantom's face became still as stone at her words.

"You think yourself brave, girl. Demanding answers of me and insulting me?"

"Not brave, sir. Stubborn," she replied, holding his gaze. "But it is better than being as naïve as my sister," she added. The Phantom leapt from his seat and grabbed Ella by the upper part of her arms. There would be bruises there in no time, as there would be around her neck; she would have to wear a scarf for the next couple of days.

"It is not stubbornness," he pulled her close to him, his breathe and words falling across her face, "but _stupidity_ to talk of your sister so in front of me!"

"I merely speak the truth, monsieur," she whispered back. "I love Christine more than life itself, but she _is_ naïve. That is the real reason I am here. It is my responsibility to protect her." The Phantom searched Ella's eyes after she said these words. He released his hard grip on her and moved his hands up her arm to the edges of the cloak which had fallen from her shoulders. He adjusted it with one hand as he brushed a wet lock of her hair behind her ear. Ella felt drunk, having this man so close, touching her so intimately.

"You are like Christine."

Ella snapped out of her dream state at hearing him say her sister's name with such affection and tenderness. He stepped away from her and she felt cold again. "The passion you show….when you speak about looking out for her. It is like when she sings." Ella shook her head.

"No, monsieur—." She stopped. "What is your name?" The Phantom looked startled at her question. "I merely ask out of respect; I cannot keep calling you monsieur alone, nor do I wish to refer to you as Phantom or Opera Ghost." A look came over him…sadness perhaps? "Surely you must have a name? A real name…"

"Christine never even asked me that." He looked away. " My name is Erik."

"….Erik..? Well, Monsieur Erik, I was going to say that when Christine sings, it is not with passion as much as a soft grace and some sadness. I see now what the reason for that sadness is." Erik shot her a murderous look, a minute later though his features softened.

"She believed you were an angel sent by our father. She cannot cope with this betrayal of reality." Erik did not look at her, but nodded.

"You should be with her. Come, I shall take you across by boat. We would not want you to catch cold now, would we?" He seemed to be mocking her.

They made their way silently across the lake and then to the stone staircase. Erik led her all the way to the top of the stairs. "You know the way from here no doubt, mademoiselle?" She nodded and turned to go down the passage. "Ella," he called after her. Hearing him call her name like that made a thousand butterflies release inside her stomach. She turned back to him.

"Yes…Erik?"

"I love your sister with every fiber of my being, and as she loves you, I spared you from my anger. But know this…if you tell a soul or interfere in any way, your sister's love will not protect you from me." Ella felt she had been stabbed with an icicle in the heart, but she found herself nodding.

"You do not have to worry, monsieur. I will keep your secret till the death." She turned and made her way back down the passage.

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	4. Four

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Ella pushed back the mirror and stepped into the dressing room. All was silent, though it appeared it would not have been if she had come a few minutes earlier; clothing was strewn about and a large trunk was in the middle of the room. Obviously people had been in here. Perhaps Carlotta had come back to pack her things and leave for good? One could only hope. Ella quietly and quickly made her way to the door… and smacked right into Madame Giry!

"Ma cherre, I thought you were still abed with your sister…" She looked behind to the door where the girl had appeared from. "You little fool," she cursed at her as she pulled her down the hall. "Do you think you are being brave?"

"I've already had this exact discussion and it was determined that I am not being brave, nor stupid, just stubborn." Madame Giry pulled Ella into her office. Ella sat herself down in a chair across from Madame's desk. Madame Giry did not take a seat, but began to pace back and forth, cursing under her breath. "Are you going to tell me or not?" Madame Giry stopped pacing. She hesitated for a moment, then smoothed down her skirt and smiled sweetly.

"I don't know what you are talking about, Ella. And you should be back with your sister." Ella dug her fingers into the arms of the chair.

"Stop that! I am not naïve!"

"Of course not, ma petite, no one said you were." MadameGiry made a movement to help her up but Ella held tight to the chair.

"Then stop treating me so! Stop treating me like…like Christine!" Ella felt bad to speak of her sister with such contempt, but she felt justified. "I want to know! Tell me about the Phantom!"

"I know nothing, Estella, no more than the others…keep your voice down!"

"You're lying! You know the Phantom! You _know_ him! Tell me about Erik…" Madame had been trying to calm her, but stopped her fussing when she heard the girl speak the Phantom's name. She went and sat down behind her desk, pale.

"He told you his name?" she said it with disbelief.

"I only had to ask," Ella crossed her arms over her chest. "He said Christine never even asked….For all his love for her it does not seem she gives him much thought." Disdain crept back into her voice. "….I don't even think it really is love, Madame….something just as strong though…"

"The heart is a fragile and very complex thing, ma petite. Even the greatest thinkers of our times cannot explain exactly what the nature of love is." Ella only nodded. "What happened?"

"Well, he does not love me as he does Christine, nor do I think he really likes me," she said rubbing her neck.

"Erik has a temper….he is still like a child in so many ways."

"That's what I want to know. He was a child…a little boy. He wasn't always in the Opera House was he? How did he come to be here? And _what_ is with that mask?"

So Madame Giry told Ella her tale, of how she had found Erik in a traveling show and saved him from the cruelty of the world. She also told Ella what had transpired over the morning since she had gone down into the cellars. Ella found herself with tears in her eyes; she could not cry for her own father's death, but she could cry for the mistreatment of this stranger? A stranger who had tried to kill her! Nothing made sense to her anymore.

Madame Giry showed her Erik's last letter. "Rehearsals for _Il Muto_ will begin early tomorrow….with Carlotta as the lead," she said.

"The imbeciles!" Ella cursed the managers. "Surely you could appeal to Raoul de Chagney…he will help."

"The managers think it is all a plot by Vicomte de Chagney to get his _lover_ to super stardom." Ella almost laughed. If she had not met the Phantom herself, she supposed the idea of Raoul concocting such a plan for Christine would seem plausible. Still, it was lunacy to not give in to the Phantom's demands. Ella looked back at the letter.

"What do you think he will do?"

"Who can say, mademoiselle…?"

Who indeed. Something inside herself told Ella that this was just the beginning of something bigger.


	5. Five

Right, I said that this chapter would be longer, and it is, but it won't be going up to the cemetery scene. There's three months between the night on the roof and the masquerade and I've decided I want to use those months to develop the story more. SO it'll probably be at least two more chapters until the whole "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again" scene.

The poem Ella is reading from is Elizabeth Barrett Browning's "A Man Requirements".

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Rehearsals for _Il Muto_ began at 7:30 the next morning. Rehearsals would last five days, with the opening happening on the night of the fifth day; a Friday this week. Ella decided to watch some the rehearsals today; she did not go to Madame Cabot's until Tuesday. The fact was Ella had nothing better to do but watch the rehearsals. After the first hour and a half of Carlotta's screeching, Ella decided she would rather wander around the city than put up with this. She was going down the great marble steps of the Opera House when she bumped into someone.

_Damnit Ella! Why do you have to be so clumsy!_

She mumbled an apology and looked….into the most beautiful blues eyes. "_Raoul_…" she gasped, dropping her papers and book. "Ellie…?" Raoul bent down to help her pick up her things. Their hands brushed each others for a second and Ella could not help but blush; Raoul hardly noticed. As they stood up Raoul asked, "Have you seen Christine?"

Ella's smile fell from her face. Ah, yes, Christine. _How could you forget, Ella? It's Christine he loves…just like everyone else._ "Christine is in rehearsals," she said, putting up a faux smile for the handsome Vicomte.

"Oh….yes of course. I forgot." Ella doubted that he forgot, more likely he just didn't care. "Well…how are you Ellie? You certainly have grown…." They were eye to eye. "I'm sorry I didn't get to see you much the other night."

_Or at all_… Ella just smiled brighter. "Yes….well you look different too…but still much the same." They walked down the few remaining steps together. "I'm afraid there's been so much going on…"

"Yes! Scandal and such….." he trailed off. He smiled at the younger Daae and thought how much the two sisters did look alike….yet not. And they definitely did not act alike. Ella had always been the somber, straightforward one. He took her hand in his and for a moment Ella almost dropped all her papers again. "Do you remember the last time we saw each other?" Oh bloody hell! Oh forget it; she could pick them up later!

She didn't answer, the lump in her throat was too big, and instead she just nodded and smiled again, this time a real, glittering smile. "We were on the beach….you, me, Christine, and Father…" He nodded.

"I said I would never forget you all, not in a hundred years…."

"Christine cried as soon as your carriage pulled away…"

"I thought she might. You didn't though, did you?"

"No…."

"Brave little Ellie….the strongest person Christine and I know…" Ella couldn't look at him when he said Christine's name. "You promised to always be my friend…" Ella nodded.

"Do you doubt that we are friends, Vicomte?" He was still holding her hand. At her words he squeezed it harder.

"Of course not! You are like my little sister!" He laughed, not knowing the knife he stuck in her. "This is why I know we are still friends, and that I can always trust you….for anything. To tell me the truth when I ask it of you." Ella pulled her hand out of his on the pretense of picking up her things once more.

"What do you mean?"

He stood her up and put his hands on her shoulders. "I want you to tell me, truthfully. Has Christine told you anything about that night…about what happened?"

Ah, yes, always back to Christine. Why should she be surprised? Ella was tired and now this silent rejection made her irritable, so she did not feel wrong lying to Raoul, though she had admitted to herself that she loved him. "She hasn't told me anything…just that she went out…I pressed her but she would not speak of it." She leaned into him a bit, "Between you and me I think she has a secret lover." This was not entirely false. Ella's words hit right on the mark; Raoul was crushed. But not for long…

"Raoul!" Both turned to see Christine coming down the stairs toward them, smiling with open arms. She hugged the Vicomte and then latched her arm around his. "I was hoping you would come today! We're rehearsing but we get an hour break for now." She looked over at her sister and smiled. "Shall we go somewhere, just the three of us!"

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Since they only had an hour and Raoul wanted to spend every minute with Christine he could, they decided to just pop in at the café around the corner. It was mostly Raoul and Christine who talked….about everything! Old times, new things, new fashions, this person who was in love with that person, but was being seen with this other person. They tried to get Ella involved in the conversation when they remembered she was there, but she was soon lost in the gaggle of giggles and merriment. "You don't mean it!" Christine gushed.

"I most certainly do. Why would I lie to you?" The two then got into a good natured argument about the time Raoul lied about the sweets he had brought her one day.

Ella couldn't believe it. Had they always been like this together? Had Raoul always been like this? He was, well she didn't want to say it, a fop. Yes, indubitably. She had been in love with him. She couldn't say she had been and then take it back the minute she found something offensive about him, that wasn't love she was sure. Yes, she had loved the Vicomte de Chagney, but now…Good lord, did she even like him? Well not like that anyway. And what's worse was that he was perfect for Christine! They were a match made in heaven! But it still hurt, the memory of Raoul smiling at her and petting her hair, while his eyes were only for Christine. And then there was Christine's Phantom lover….

"Ella!" She snapped out of her thoughts. Christine and Raoul were staring at her. _Oh, zute! _What had they been saying? "Raoul asked if you would like to accompany him to the performance," Christine filled her in.

"The performance….?"

"Of _Il Muto_, on Friday. Really Ella, what are you thinking of?"

_Like I'm going to tell you!_

"The performance of _Il Muto_…yes…yes…of course….I mean…Me?"

"I can think of no one else I would rather have there…well except for one, but she doesn't count," Raoul said placing his hand on Christine's shoulder.

"Well, I have to get back, you two can sort it out by Friday I'm sure." Christine got up to head for the door. Raoul made to follow her after laying a few bills down on the table. "I'll walk you back!" he said.

"Raoul!" Ella grabbed his arm. "You'll be in box five won't you?" He smiled at her like she was some child. "Of course, where else. Don't worry, Ellie…I'll protect you from the Phantom," he said jokingly. He went after Christine and left Ella alone in front of the café.

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_Love me with thine hand stretched out  
Freely -- open-minded:  
Love me with thy loitering foot, --  
Hearing one behind it._

_Love me with thy voice, that turns  
Sudden faint above me;  
Love me with thy blush that burns  
When I murmur 'Love me!'_

_Love me with thy thinking soul,  
Break it to love-sighing;  
Love me with thy thoughts that roll  
On through living -- dying._

Ella stopped reading and looked over the words again. Normally when she read to Madame Cabot she did not think about the words or the story she was reading. She just read what was in front of her. Now though…..

"Oh, my dear…How foolish of me! I could not see, among many things, how tired you are!" Madame Cabot reached out her hand and closed the book for Ella. "You must go home at once! You must be rested for the Opera tonight!" Madame Cabot was a patron of the Opera Populaire herself, since the problem was only with her eyes and not with her ears. She was however not going to tonight's performance. "_Il Muto_, bah! Tell me when they have a real Opera…a tragedy…full of love and hope and despair. That is what makes an Opera my dear!"

"Yes, Madame."

"Yes, well, Marcel! Get the carriage for Mademoiselle Daae, please," the old woman yelled to her servant; Marcel unfortunately did have a hearing problem, but Madame could not bear to part with him.

"Oh, no, Madame," Ella protested. "The carriage is not—."

"…necessary," Madame Cabot finished for her. "So you say. I do not care. I need to go out anyhow, so we can drop you off and I would love the company. Now no more arguments!" She pounded her cane down.

"Yes, Madame."

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They were in the carriage; Madame Cabot was wrapped tightly in her furs. "It is chilly, I dare say it shall snow tonight." Ella only nodded, looking back down at her book. She could not say why she had such a sense of foreboding.

"Alright, what is it?"

"Hmmm….? What do you speak of, Madame?"

"Child, I may be blind but I am not dumb! Out with it! What is bothering you."

Ella thought back to the distressing events of this morning. Madame Giry had been yelling at some of the younger ballet tarts; they were late as usual. The Opera was doing one last dress rehearsal before tonight, and everyone was on edge.

"Are coming down to watch?" Christine asked her sister. Ella just shrugged. Like Madame Cabot she did not like this particular Opera. Instead she found herself wandering around the upper levels of the Opera House. She stood in front of box five; the box Raoul and she would share that night. She had no illusions, it was Christine that Raoul loved. He was only inviting Ella out of kindness to Christine. It did not bother her as much as it once would have, she noticed, as she stepped through the curtain into the box.

No wonder Erik wanted it! It was the best seat in the house! But no one ever saw him use it. Or at least no one ever saw him enter or leave it. There was probably another secret passage. Ella relaxed back into one of the plush seats and closed her eyes. She blocked out all the sounds from below; the orchestra, Carlotta's screeching, Piangi's bellowing. She was almost on the brink of unconsciousness.

"Having a nice time, mademoiselle?" She shot up straight as an arrow at the voice. How in the world…? The Phantom stood a few feet to her right, partly in the shadows.

"What are you doing here!" It was a stupid thing to say, but she couldn't think of anything else. He stepped away from the wall, and Ella remembered how menacing he could be this close up.

"This is my box, little Daae, so I should be asking you that question." He played with a loose strange of her hair, like she was nothing but his pet. She pulled away and crossed her arms.

"Humph, your box indeed!"

"I dare say my managers see it the same as you….poor fools." He sat down in the seat next to hers, the masked part of his face turned away. After he did not speak for several moments Ella decided to break the silence.

"What do you want?" she asked impatiently. When he turned to stair at her, she wished she hadn't spoken. His glance pierced her so that all her witty insults and repartees melted away.

"And here I was thinking to grace you with the title of intelligent, mademoiselle." He smirked. Did she say they melted away? Forget that, they were boiler proof!

"And I was going to deem you with my pity….but now—!" Ella couldn't finish her sentence. His hands clamped over her forearms again, right on top of the bruises that had been healing just fine until now. "Ouch! Would you quit grabbing me so!" But his face was a mask of fury. He pulled her closer to him.

"_Pity, _mademoiselle? You pity me?" He let out a harsh laugh and threw her back against the chair. "Why I suppose you should, when you have so much more than me!" Ella did not like the cruel twinkle in his eyes. "You have such a fabulous carrier reading to…what is that old harpies name again? Ai, and then there are your friends!...But then they're always hanging around Christine aren't they. The same with your father…."

"And Raoul de Chagney..." she shot back. She had meant to rub it in, make him stop harassing her. It didn't work.

"Oh, yes! The boy….Funny isn't it. Just like an Opera. Two sisters fall in love with the same man. Now which one would he want….it's his wish I am speaking of, of course…for truth he deserves neither one. Shall he set his sites on the bright, angelic jewel that is Christine? Or shall he choose the gangly, clumsy, introvert with the acid dipped tongue, who can't even admit how she really feels about her own sister?" Tears sprang in Ella's eyes. She wanted to turn away from him, but he knelt down in front of her and took her face in his hands. "Pity me, if you wish little Ella, for it is the only pleasure you have in your pathetic little existence. I will not begrudge it to you." He wiped her tears away with a gloved hand. She pulled away from him, but found she could only go deeper back into the cushion of the chair. She pushed him away and made for the curtain, stopped and turned.

"You are a vile, foul, disgusting..._thing_! When Madame Giry told me of your past I pitied you because you had known no compassion, no kindness, all because of your face. I pitied that this was the lot you had been cast! …..Now I think you deserve it! ….Your face truly must show what you heart is like…That is why people will pity you. As for me, I will never make such a mistake again!" She turned to leave the box and said in way of a farewell, without turning back, "Stay away from me and my sister…"

"I am fine, Madame," she finally replied to her aged companion. "Just tired I guess…and cold."

Madame Cabot looked her over with her goof right eye, deciding not to press her.

"Alright my dear." A few minutes later they pulled up in front of the Opera House and said their farewells.

Ella hurried up the stairs, shivering from the cold. She would have to hurry; it was later than she knew and the Opera would be starting in just under an hour!

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Next Chapter coming soon!


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